I start springing towards the barricade with superior speed, and before I know it, I’m on all fours like an animal. I turn my head and see Fake on all fours and starting to pass me, he was always good with speed. I then turn my focus back to the main object at hand, and that is the barricade that I just simply spring off my legs and leap the whole thing. I dig my claws into the loose dirt and spin to face my opponents; they look no older than 24 and scared out of their wits. Unfortunately they chose the wrong side to fight on, and I launch forward, and slash at them with my razor sharp claws. My claws connect with two chest cavities and practically rip them open. The others at this point have begun sprinting for the main bunker. I usually do not prefer this gruesome way of killing, but it is what it is. I begin chasing the two; my tongue flapping in the wind, seeing that is has grown to proportional size. Just as they’re entering the bunker I am blasted with across the ground in an explosion, and it is so strong I fly back to the barricade and find that I’m on my back and have a pile of dirt over me that was overturned as my body was sent through the solid earth as if it was air. Fake is standing over me and swiping the dirt off me. “Jack! Jack! Wake up!”
I shake my head and get to my feet, and that’s when I realize that I’m back to a human. I glare at the bunker, and I know Fake can tell what I’m going to do because he tries to calm me down. “Jack calm down, that was nothing compared to what you’ve been through. Let’s just get this over with, no need for that.” This doesn’t help me calm down, because now my wings that have been categorized as eagle wings that are colored as the night’s won pitch sky black are extended to show their full size. I grin at Fake then without warning; I shoot up into the air, and hover in the air, my wings flapping in a slow rhythm to keep me levitated. They really think they have a chance? Thinking that knocking me into my standard form is actually something that’s rare? Fools! For a few moments my body is concealed in the black flames my rage has caused to manifest, and then I’m in my true fighting gear. I wear a black pair of cargo pants with multiple pockets on them, and I have two large chains that are hooked too two loops on the rim on the back of my pants. The chains are roughly 15 feet long and wrap around my waist a few times, and drape down to my knees. The ending of the chains are where they hook to two loops on the rim on the front side of the pants. The contents of my pant pockets range from ammunition to grenades and even knives. I have two large dagger sheathed on the outside of my thighs, one on each leg. I have two standard, steel swords sheathed at my waists and a long broadsword latched down on my back. Along with that I have two high caliber pistols also latched down on my sides, holstered. Reasoning behind that is both the daggers and pistols, placement give me easy access to them in a pinch. I wear a tight black shirt that does not prohibit movement. My black hair is s longer than a buzz, but not by much. I have a pretty decent build for someone my age, but I don’t look as strong as the others do. The only thing that people will probably get stunned on by my battle attire are my eyes, unfortunately they are a dark green. They always appear to glow in the darkness people say, but obviously I don’t believe them.
I roll my neck and hear a few cracks, Fake has decided to run to a safe distance, and I don’t blame him; these people have decided to rebel against a working system, and then kill fellow soldier and friends of mine thinking it was justifiable. They could never have been so wrong.
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